


Morning Glory.

by malfoible



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoible/pseuds/malfoible





	Morning Glory.

Sherlock woke and stretched, a slight flicker of disappointment as he realised he was alone. He had gotten used to John sleeping in his bed, their bed, he should probably say now.

It wasn't that they were cuddlers, exactly, but it felt good to Sherlock to twine his smooth cold legs with John's warm hairy ones, it felt comforting, comfortable, like the hand holding.

Sherlock had taken to the hand holding right from the start. John's grip firm and strong. giving Sherlock something he hadn't realised he was missing.

He liked it best when John woke hard and horny, waking Sherlock with soft bites and kisses before pinning him to the bed and…

 

He wondered why John had gotten up, they had arrived home late last night or rather, very early this morning.  
Sherlock had solved an extremely dark and difficult case, he was almost crowing with elation, lit up on serotonin.  
He had wanted John to take him, make love to him, but John had fallen almost unconscious into bed and immediately into sleep.

Sherlock had felt frustrated { for practically the first time in his life} and had spent the hours before sleep claimed him, reviewing the whole case to keep his mind occupied.

He ran his hands over his own chest copying the movements John used with so much effect.  
He had rarely touched himself in a sexual way since puberty and even then it had been more in the way of an experiment, a search for knowledge, than it had been a longing for release.

He trailed his fingers across his nipples then lower to his belly, this was what John must feel when he touched him.  
He imagined John touching him, closing his eyes remembering the feelings.  
John had awoken something sensual in Sherlock, it scared him a little, being out of control, feelings taking place of logic.

He slid his hand lower and was surprised at the readiness of his cock.  
Just the thought of John had him hard and leaking.

He ran his thumb over the head and tentatively raised it to his lips wanting a taste, John seemed to like the taste.  
John loved to take him in the shower, soaping and rinsing Sherlock, taking his time, then kneeling and swallowing Sherlock down as he thrust and moaned.

Sherlock loosened his grip, he wanted John he needed John.

He couldn’t have gone far.

He climbed out of the bed…

 

John had woken earlier, his head banging, too much excitement and too little sleep over the past few days, had sent him searching for painkillers and tea.

He groaned as he entered the kitchen. It was disgusting.  
Twenty times worse than usual, not a clean cup or an empty counter top in sight.

Sherlock, his friend, his lover, infuriating genius that he was, could live like this, but, he, John, was a doctor and a soldier, eschewing the urge to run out to the nearest café he set to work cleaning up.

Three sack of rubbish being taken out to the bins and two loads of dishes being washed had the place shipshape, he found some painkillers and made himself a whole pot of tea.

He sighed as he settled into his chair.

Half way through the second cup he lay back and closed his eyes.

Moments from the past couple of days flickered across his mind, Greg worried, Sherlock frantic then exultant, as he was proven right once again.

Greg hugging Sherlock in thanks, the look of disbelief on Sherlock’s face, he wasn’t a hugger.

The slight twinge of jealousy that shot through John. Wishing he could hug Sherlock in public. Stake his claim. This man, this brilliant, annoying, genius of a man belongs to me.

Thinking of Sherlock made him hard, he ran his hand over the front of his trousers and touched himself.

He had wanted Sherlock last night wanted to take him, claim him, make love to him, but by the time they had arrived home he had been too weary to stand. Sleep had claimed him too quickly.

He stilled his hand, why was he sitting out here thinking about making love to Sherlock when a dozen steps away, the real man was lying in their soft, warm, bed.

He stood and made his way to the bedroom just as the door was wrenched open and a wild looking, naked, Sherlock stood in front of him.

“I missed..you…I want….I need…” Sherlock struggled with the unfamiliar words.

John smiled tugging on Sherlock’s curls to pull him down for a kiss, gripping his waist as he pushed him backwards towards the bed.

“Then you will get…whatever you want.” John replied as he kicked the door closed.


End file.
